


kiss me like you mean it

by rocketshiptospace



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, also apparently its a shyan shipper, shane and ryan's apartment building has a mind of its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketshiptospace/pseuds/rocketshiptospace
Summary: “Hi,” Tall man says, taking in the sight in front of him. “I’m sorry, I heard banging and yelling and I just, are you okay?”“No. Yes. Maybe,” Ryan says, slowly standing back up on two legs again. “My door won’t open.” He eventually ads, when him and Tall man have just stared at each other for a few seconds.“That’s unfortunate,” Tall man says, smiling at him. He has a really nice smile. “But it happens. It’s an old building, you know. Doors get stuck sometime. Here, let me try,” He steps past Ryan, and places his hand on the door handle. The door swings open like it’s nothing.or, Ryan's apartment building plays matchmaker.





	kiss me like you mean it

**Author's Note:**

> hey remember when i did a poll like over two months ago about what story i should write next??? well this is (finally) that story :D sorry for the wait, i got overly busy and gave up on this story about a million times before finally finishing tonight. this whole fic is probably a bit of a wacky concept but i always love the idea of sentient building or things playing matchmaker.
> 
> anyway, enjoy!!!!!

Most people hate moving, but Ryan finds he actually kind of really likes it. There’s something awfully therapeutic about leaving your old way of life behind and being able to start all over again. New city, new street, new building, new furniture. And aside from that, it’s kind of fun, too. All of his friends help him, carrying boxes and furniture up the narrow staircase of the building, laughing and making jokes, usually at Ryan’s expense.

The less fun part happens when there’s nothing left to carry upstairs, and the furniture has been assembled, and the most important boxes have been unpacked, and all of his friends leave. They wish him a good first night in his first apartment, and then they’re out the door and it’s just Ryan, all alone, in the middle of his new apartment, which suddenly feels gigantic.

“Oh,” he says, because the silence is starting to get to him, and he needs to hear _something_ , even if it’s just the sound of his own voice. “This is kind of lonely.”

A rattling window catches Ryan’s attention, but when he looks over, there’s nothing there. He figures it was just a truck passing by, shrugs, and trudges off in the direction of the bedroom, desperately trying to remember in which box he put his underwear.

\--

The next morning Ryan realizes that while he has a couch, and a bed, a table, and lots and lots of books, he doesn’t actually have any food like, whatsoever. Except maybe a rather stale looking muesli bar he finds in the bottom of his work bag, that he eats just so he has _something_ to tide him over while he goes grocery shopping.

When he comes back to the apartment roughly an hour later, balancing four bags in his arms, he confidently puts his key in the lock, turns it, and then full on smacks into the door when it refuses to open. In the process he drops one of the bags, and a lone apple rolls across the floor, stopping right in front on his neighbor’s door. “Shit,” he mutters, and puts all of his bags down to be able to retrieve it.

After he does, he tries the door again, but it simply refuses to open. The lock opens just fine, and the handle moves, but for some reason the door seems stuck. He even checks if he has the right apartment, which he definitely does, and then angrily kicks the door, only hurting his toe in the process.

“Fuck,” he says hopping up and down on one foot, holding his hurting foot in his hands. “Fuckity fuck fuck.”

Suddenly his neighbor’s door opens, and a man steps out. A tall man, with messy brown hair and soft brown eyes and a five o clock shadow, wearing a simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Despite all of that, he still looks more put together than Ryan, who hasn’t showered in two days, put on the first clothes he could find that morning, and is still hopping up and down on one foot.

“Hi,” Tall man says, taking in the sight in front of him. “I’m sorry, I heard banging and yelling and I just, are you okay?”

“No. Yes. Maybe,” Ryan says, slowly standing back up on two legs again. “My door won’t open.” He eventually ads, when him and Tall man have just _stared_ at each other for a few seconds.

“That’s unfortunate,” Tall man says, smiling at him. He has a _really_ nice smile. “But it happens. It’s an old building, you know. Doors get stuck sometime. Here, let me try,” He steps past Ryan, and places his hand on the door handle. The door swings open like it’s nothing.

“There you go,” Tall man says, and Ryan is torn between laughing and crying. _Of course_ the door opens easily now. Just his luck. Great way to humiliate himself in front of his neighbor during their literal first meeting. His _attractive_ neighbor as well. God, Ryan is going to die alone. 

“Thanks,” Ryan says, a little strangled, leaning down to pick his grocery bags up again so he can disappear into the comfort of his own apartment and never ever come out ever again.

“I’m Shane, by the way,” Tall man says, sticking out his hand.

Ryan struggles with the grocery bags for a bit and shakes Shane’s hand, “Ryan. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” Shane says, “Well, anyway, if you need any help, whatsoever, please let me know. I’m right next door, and I can handle my tools quite well, if you know what I mean.”

Ryan turns bright red and desperately tries not to think of the _other_ kind of tools Shane could be handling. Shane seems to realize the implication he just made, because he too flushes slightly and holds up his hands. “Oh god, I didn’t mean. I just. I know how to screw stuff. I mean, use a screw driver, like. Oh man, this is really not going great.”

At that, Ryan laughs, and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I get what you mean. I’ll let you know if anything needs to get screwed.”

Shane laughs, too, and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Well, okay, I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone now. See you around?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “See you around.” And then he disappears into the solitude of his own apartment. The second the door clicks behind him, he drops his bags and buries his head in his hands with a loud groan. “’If anything needs to be screwed’? What is _wrong_ with you, Bergara?”

\--

Coincidentally, about a week later, something does need to be screwed.

He hasn’t seen Shane The Attractive Neighbor all week, which he is a hundred percent _not upset about_ , but when the light in his kitchen starts flickering, he immediately makes his way over to Shane’s apartment without a second thought.

“Ha, Ryan!” Shane says. He’s wearing glasses, which momentarily throws Ryan for a loop because, well, glasses. Which is stupid because _he_ has glasses. They shouldn’t be special. Yet, they give Shane a kind of soft, nerdy look that makes his stomach flutter.

“Hi,” Ryan says, “I’m really sorry to bother you, but uh, the light in my kitchen keeps flickering and I remember you telling me you, uh..” ‘Really know how to use your tools’, his brain helpfully supplies, which he ignores, “Were quite the handy man. So I was wondering if maybe you could help me out?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem! You’ve got time right now?” Shane asks, and when Ryan nods, he disappears back into his apartment to grab a tool box and follows Ryan back to his apartment.

“I’m pretty sure you couldn’t even fix it even if you were capable of doing so,” Shane says, staring up at the flickering light when they make it to the kitchen. Ryan is his past self forever grateful for actually doing the dishes last night.

Ryan frowns at Shane, “Why not?”

“It’s too high. Your short legs could never reach,” Shane says, and he’s smiling, but there’s an uncertainty in his eyes that shows Ryan he’s not sure if it’s an okay joke to make.

But Ryan wheezes out a laugh and says, “Ladders do exist, you fucking sasquatch.” And any previous uncertainty disappears from Shane’s eyes.

“Yes, they invented them for _midgets_ , like you,” he says, and reaches up to unscrew the lamp cover.

Ryan squawks indignantly. “At least I don’t have actual _stilts_ for legs.”

“Personally I would be a lot kinder to the guy trying to fix your light,” Shane counters, “But that’s just me.”

Ryan, despite knowing it was just a jab and Shane did not neciserally mean anything by it, realizes he has been a pretty terrible host so far. “Right. You want some coffee?”

Shane nods, still looking up at the lamp. “I could go for some coffee. Two sugars, no milk, please.”

So Ryan busies himself with making two cups of coffee, while Shane softly curses at the light in the background, and he can’t help but think how nice it is to have someone else around in the apartment. Since moving, none of his friends have really come over, it was mostly Ryan coming over to theirs, because he kind of feels awkward about all of his half unpacked boxes. But because of that, he hadn’t really realized how lonely his apartment was until Shane was also present.

He finishes the coffee, and when he turns around, Shane is just screwing the lamp cover back on. “That should do it,” he says, turning to Ryan with a smile on his face.

Ryan smiles back, and hands him his cup of coffee, nodding towards the living room. Shane nods in response, and they make their way over to the couch, settling down on opposite sides. “I would compliment you on your apartment, but it’s pretty much exactly the same as mine, just with more boxes.” Shane says.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, staring at a half unpacked box of books, “I would’ve liked to have everything done by now, but I just really haven’t had the time.”

“You have time now, don’t you? Do you want some help? I can help.” Shane says, and when Ryan opens his mouth to protest, because Shane has already fixed his light and he can’t ask him to do this, too, Shane holds up his hands. “Hey, seriously dude, it’s no problem. I haven’t got anything better to do with my afternoon anyway.”

“I mean, uh, sure, then, I guess?” Ryan says, and takes a sip of his coffee.

Shane grins at him. “Cool.”

So that’s how they spend the rest of the afternoon, stacking the shelfs of Ryan’s book case. It shouldn’t have to take all afternoon, but it does, because they keep getting into arguments about the weirdest things.

(“Why do you have _three_ separate versions of The Great Gatsby?” Shane asks, holding up said copies.

Ryan shrugs. “It’s a good book.”

“ _Three_ ,” is all Shane says in response.

“… It’s a _really_ good book.”)

When Shane leaves, the apartment falls silent again, and Ryan can’t help but absolutely _hate_ it. He goes to make himself dinner, and smiles when he turns on the kitchen light and the lamp flicks on without any issues.

\--

The problem is that while Ryan desperately wants to see Shane again, he doesn’t actually have a _reason_ to go see Shane again. He could just knock on his door and invite him for coffee, but that just seems awfully forward and Ryan doesn’t want to look _desperate._

Which means another week goes by without seeing Shane at all.

But then, on Friday, there’s a knock on his door, and when Ryan opens, Shane’s in front of it, cardboard box in hand. “ _Ghost Hunters_ , Ryan? Seriously?” Shane says, and at Ryan’s confused look, plows on. “Like, I get things like Supernatural, or X-Files because like, that’s _fiction_ , and it’s _fun_ , but Ghost Hunters is just a bunch of dudes making money out of creaky old buildings. It’s _ridiculous._ ” He pauses, and then scrunches up his nose. “Oh, yeah, this was delivered to my house this morning. Mailman must’ve gotten the wrong door. Imagine my surprise when I expected a rubber duck dressed as superman and instead got _the complete first season of Ghost Hunters_.” He looks down at the box in disgust.

Ryan, who is struggling with processing all this information this early in the morning, while simultaneously getting insanely distracted by the slight stubble on Shane’s face, just answers, “Rubber duck?”

Shane frowns at him. “Me and my friend Sara have a thing where we give each other different varieties of rubber ducks for every holiday. But that’s not the _point_ right now. The point is that you were apparently planning on watching _Ghost Hunters_.”

“I wasn’t going to watch them,” Ryan says, and Shane’s shoulder sag in relief.

“Oh good, because-“

“I already watched all of them. I just lost the season one DVD in the move, and I wanted to complete my collection again.” Ryan finishes, and Shane sends him an incredulous look.

“Are you trying to tell me there’s more than one season of this nonsense?”

“Eleven, actually,” Ryan says sheepishly, “And a few spin-offs. Anyway, it’s a good show. They’ve found some real compelling stuff.”

“They have _not_ ,” Shane says, “Because ghosts aren’t _real_.”

“I, you know what, you come over, and you watch a few episodes, and then if you still think it’s bullshit, that’s fine, but I swear to you they find some real convincing stuff.” Ryan says, and it doesn’t register to him that live just handed him the perfect opportunity to hang out with Shane again until Shane is saying “Sure, but I’m telling you, nothing is going to convince me.”

\--

Shane’s right. Nothing convinces him. But that doesn’t matter, because he keeps coming over to watch episodes anyway. They’ll sit on Ryan’s couch and eat popcorn while Shane bashes pretty much everything the Ghost Hunters find, while Ryan tries to pretend he doesn’t actually get terrified out of his mind at times.

(“Oh my god, it seriously sounded like that ghost said ‘help me’, did you hear that, Shane?”

Shane scoffs. “All I heard was,” and then he starts making weird noises that vaguely resemble the sound the ghost made.

“You suck,” Ryan informs him.)

The first few times they had watched episodes together, Ryan and Shane were on opposite sides of the couch respectively, but lately they’ve started migrating more and more towards the middle, until they’re close enough for Ryan to grab Shane’s knee in anticipation whenever the ghost hunters find something seemingly compelling. Shane lets him, every time, which must account for something, but Ryan’s not trying to look into it too much.

Because yeah, the more time he spends with Shane the more and more he starts to realize that _maybe_ he has a bit of a crush on Shane, but really, it’s fine. It’s manageable. It’s nothing, really. Sometimes he stares at Shane’s lips a tad too long, or laughs a bit too loudly at his jokes, or lingers just a little bit when they touch, but at the end of the day, it’s nothing.

And Shane has no idea of Ryan’s feelings, nor has he shown any signs of reciprocation, so really, Ryan’s just going to have to bottle it up and leave it.

Which does get a bit tricky when Shane is supposed to come over for dinner one night and right after Ryan takes the lasagna out of the oven, the power shuts off.

“Oh great,” Ryan tells his pitch black apartment.

Shane comes rushing in minutes later, flashlight in hand, “Ryan, you okay?”

“I mean, yeah?” Ryan says. He’s put the lasagna on the kitchen counter, and is now busying himself with lighting the few candles he could find.

“Oh good, the lasagna survived,” Shane says, eyeing the dish on the table, because of course that would be his priority. Ryan hates himself for finding that cute. “Anyway, I called maintenance, and they said it will take about an hour to get everything up and running again. Some problem with the wiring.”

Ryan hums. “Well, there goes eating in front of the TV. Guess we’ll just have to set the table?”

“Yeah, sure,” Shane says, already moving to grab some plates from one of the cabinets. Ryan’s stomach flutters at the easy way Shane moves around his apartment, like it’s _home_ , and goes to grab cutlery.

It doesn’t hit him until he’s already sitting down that with the candles, and the set table, the whole thing _screams_ romantic dinner. Shane doesn’t seem to notice, cheerily informing Ryan that a situation like these requires some proper wine, and pouring them both a glass. He keeps chattering about his day, and how he’s been through a blackout in this building before, seemingly uncaring that all Ryan is capable of right now is nodding at the right times and laughing occasionally, too caught up in the whole _romantic date_ setting to do much else.

The candles throw a soft glow over Shane’s face, and he’s gesturing his arms around excitedly between bites of lasagna, and all Ryan wants to do is lean over and kiss him.

“Oh,” Shane says, suddenly pausing mid story, “You’ve got some sauce…” he gestures to the general direction of Ryan’s face.

“What?” Ryan says, reaching up and wiping at the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no, more to the left, no, more up, no, oh my god, just let me,” Shane says, and then suddenly he’s leaning over, thumb swiping over Ryan’s bottom lip, the corner of his mouth. Shane’s hand lingers, leaning against Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan involuntarily leans into it.

“There,” Shane says, voice soft, and then he’s pulling away, and Ryan wants so desperately to pull him back, to finally press their lips together, but Shane’s back in his seat, and he’s chattering about the girl that lives downstairs that almost left the building without her shoes on the other day, and the moment is broken.

Minutes later, the lights flicker back on. Ryan’s almost disappointed when they settle on the couch to eat their dessert while watching another episode of Ghost Hunters. Almost, because the press of Shane’s leg against his makes up it.

\--

Ryan tries not to think about the candle lit dinner or the urge to kiss Shane too much. He isn’t really successful at it, but he’s trying, which he guesses at least counts for something. He’s fine, most of the time, able to ignore his feelings for the most part.

That is, until the shower incident.

It happens on a Thursday night. Ryan is mindlessly watching a football game on the couch, seriously considering if it would be weird for him to go over to Shane’s and ask him if he wants to hang out, but they never really hang out on Thursday and he doesn’t want to seem clingy.

Which is _ridiculous_ , because two dudes hanging out isn’t _clingy_ , it’s just, well, two dudes hanging out. Ryan shouldn’t be so _worried_ about this. He can _totally_ just go over there and ask Shane what he’s doing. Or text him. Or call him.

Part of him is scared, however, that Shane has other plans. That Shane has a _date,_ of all things. And that would just be awfully unfortunate. Not that Ryan has a chance with Shane to begin with, it’s just, he knows that if Shane starts dating someone it’s _final_ , and Ryan’s pretty sure he’s not ready for that kind of confrontation yet.

At that exact moment, his musings are interrupted by an ear splitting scream.

It’s Shane, it’s undeniable Shane, and it’s coming from his apartment, and Ryan is on his feet and out the door within seconds, uncaring that he’s still in sweats and a t-shirt, and skids across the hallway on bare feet, coming to a halt in front of Shane’s door.

It’s quiet, now, but Ryan still yanks the door open, forever grateful that Shane never really locks it during the day, and gets a face full of a half naked Shane.

He’s standing in the middle of the living room, halfway between the bathroom and his bedroom, towel slung around his waist, but it’s so low that Ryan can see his hipbones. He’s still wet from the shower, and there’s water droplets falling from his hair running down his chest, and down his impossibly long legs and _god_ , Ryan wants to climb him like a tree.

“Ryan,” Shane says, clearly surprised, because, well, Ryan did just barge into his apartment like a madman.

“I heard you scream,” Ryan offers as an explanation, feeling awfully sheepish now. Whatever happened, Ryan’s reaction was a clear overreaction.

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry about that,” Shane says, scratching the back of his head with one hand. The other is still on his towel, holding it up, which Ryan is infinitely grateful for because he’s pretty sure he’d start crying if Shane actually dropped it. He’s already unfairly attractive to deal with right now, let alone fully naked.

“Was there, uh,” Ryan clears his throat, shuffles his feet, and tries to look anywhere but the outline of Shane’s dick through the towel. “What happened?”

Shane shrugs, “I don’t know man, the water suddenly turned super cold, I have no idea how. But it was fine, I was done showering anyway.”

Ryan hums, and an awkward pause falls over them.

“Hey, uh, did you have any plans, I mean, right now?” Shane asks, and Ryan shakes his head, “Cool, cool, do you like, uh, wanna hang out?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “Yeah, sure. But only, if like, you put on some clothes.”

Shane laughs, and Ryan wants to lick his chest. God fucking shit this is the _worst_. “Yeah, sure, let me just grab some sweats and a t-shirt. Can you make some popcorn in the mean time? I’m _craving_.”

“Of course,” Ryan says, and makes himself scares to Shane’s kitchen as quick as possible, absolutely _not_ taking one last lingering look at Shane’s unfairly beautiful naked chest.

\--

Things have been going great, recently. Ryan still has the undeniable urge to kiss Shane senseless every time they’re within three feet of each other, and the naked encounter _really did not help_ , but other than that things are great. They hang out at each other’s apartments almost daily, eat dinner together, make fun of each other. For the first time since Ryan has moved in, his apartment has really started to feel like a home.

Which is why it is no surprise that on one faithful Monday afternoon, everything goes to shit.

“Well,” Shane says, staring at the floor of Ryan’s apartment. Or, well, what used to be the floor of Ryan’s apartment, but now mostly resembles a giant apartment sized kiddie pool. “This is unfortunate.”

“No really,” Ryan says, “Is it now?” He sounds irritable because he’s annoyed, and angry, and his apartment is fucking _flooded_.

“What’re you going to do?” Shane asks, wading over to the book case and checking the water damage on some of the books.

Ryan sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “Landlord says it’s going to take at least a week to fix. So I guess I have to sleep over at a friends house? I asked Jenn and she said-“

“You can sleep over at my house,” Shane says, cutting Ryan off, “I mean, it’s just next door, and my floor was thankfully spared, and really it’s no big deal, I can sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

“Really?” Ryan asks, and when Shane nods he adds. “Okay, sure, but on one condition.”

“And that is?” Shane asks, eyebrow raised.

Ryan grins, “You let me have the couch. I’m pretty sure your inhuman string bean body wouldn’t fit on the couch anyway.”

\--

They eventually decide to share the bed, because Ryan’s life is an absolute nightmare. He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that some of his possessions have been irreparably ruined, or that he’s going to have to spend a whole week sleeping next to Shane. He’s leaning towards the second.

Shane is an absolute gentleman about the whole thing, helping Ryan retrieve most of his ruined possessions to see what can still be saved by drying it out, and assisting him and hauling all the stuff he needs for the week into Shane’s apartment. It turns out to just be one bag of clothes and toiletries, but Shane still ends up carrying it to his apartment while cheerfully informs Ryan that maybe the building is haunted and this is its way of telling Ryan it hates him.

“You know what?” Ryan says, just to humor him, “Between the broken lamp, and the power shut down, and the stubbornly stuck door that day we first met, you might actually have a point.”

“We should film it, make a show out of it. Then your life can finally be like those ghost hunting shows you’re so fond of,” Shane jokes.

Ryan laughs. “Can you imagine? Me in those haunted locations? I would probably shit my fucking pants.”

“Yeah, you would,” Shane agrees, nodding solemnly, “I’d be right by your side, though, protection you.”

“Thanks,” Ryan says, dryly. They’ve entered Shane’s apartment at this point, and Shane drops Ryan’s bag in his bedroom, before wandering off towards the kitchen.

“What should we do for dinner?” Shane asks, voice muffled, probably because he has his head stuffed in his cupboards.

Ryan shrugs and plops on the couch. “I don’t really care. Take out?” He digs the remote out from under Shane’s couch pillows and turns on the TV, flipping through channels before settling on some sort of house remodeling show.

“Take out sounds _fantastic_ ,” Shane says, wandering out of the kitchen with two beers, handing one to Ryan before plopping down next to him. “What are we watching?”

\--

It’s almost awfully domestic, the two of them sitting on the couch watching bad reality TV and eating take out, before eventually deciding to retire to bed. They move around each other almost effortlessly, only knocking elbows once when they’re brushing their teeth, which somehow turns into a full elbow war, which ends when Ryan almost accidentally shoves his toothbrush up his own nose.

They crawl into bed together, and Shane jokes about building a pillow wall between, which Ryan dismisses by hitting him in the face with one of the aforementioned pillows. Shane just laughs, and Ryan lets himself fall asleep with the sound of Shane’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

\--

This continues for the upcoming four days, during which Ryan mostly despairs about how _domestic_ it all feels. Ryan wakes up first, and goes into the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. Usually when he’s about to leave Shane emerges, wishing him a great day at work. After the second day Ryan makes sure there’s a cup of coffee ready for Shane, that he presses into grateful hands before leaving the apartment, suppressing the urge to kiss Shane goodbye.

When he gets home they squabble over dinner together, which Shane usually ends up making because he’s better cook, and Ryan helps by setting the table. Afterwards they do the dishes together before settling in front of the TV, watching whatever is on until either of them starts yawning.

And the bed sharing is both a blessing and a curse, because Shane turns out to be a _cuddler_. Most morning Ryan wakes up with Shane tangled around him, arm across Ryan’s chest and legs tangled together, his nose in Ryan’s hair. Ryan manages to get out of bed each morning, though the urge to stay and snuggle just a _little bit_ longer is very tempting.

It all goes to shit on Saturday, when Ryan wakes up to an empty bed. He doesn’t have work today, which means he got to sleep in a little bit, but apparently Shane still has some sort of weird internal clock that had dragged him out of bed way before Ryan. Ryan’s only a little upset by not waking up all tangled up in Shane, and follows his nose to the kitchen, where Shane is making something that looks like pancakes.

Shane is in a pair of sweats and a soft looking t-shirt. He’s barefooted, and his hair is sticking in every which direction and he looks very soft and _god_ , Ryan is so in love with him it is actually ridiculous. Suddenly his resolve breaks, and he’s striding across the kitchen, yanking Shane down by the front of his t-shirt and kissing him, surprisingly softly, full on the mouth.

For a moment, for one blissful second, he lets himself believe that this is something he can have, something they both want. This domestic wet dream of waking up to Shane making him pancakes, of living together, of kissing him. For one small second, everything is right in the world.

And then he realizes what he’s doing and pulls back with a shocked gasp. “I’m, Shane, I,” he stutters, and Shane is just _looking_ at him and Ryan doesn’t know what to _do_.

So he runs. Like a coward. He sprints back into the bedroom and grabs him bag, hastily stuffing all his stuff inside, and sprinting out of the apartment, ignoring Shane calling his name.

He doesn’t realize until he’s already outside the apartment building that he’s still in his pajamas.

\--

He ends up at Jen’s, and she pats his head consolingly and feeds him ice cream and popcorn and by the time she wishes him good night after a day of laying around and watching crap horror movies, he feels marginally better.

The bed still feels awfully empty without Shane next to him, though.

He hates how invested he’s gotten in this thing he had Shane were having. Now he screwed it up, and god, did he screw it up big time, he realizes how much of a steady fixture Shane had become in his life, and how much he is really going to miss him.

They had a perfectly good friendship going, they were having _fun_ , and Ryan has to go and get feelings involved. And he actually _kissed_ Shane, too. He doesn’t even really regret, because for a second there, everything had felt so undeniably perfect.

Eventually he falls asleep while in the middle of mussing if maybe he should move out of the building now, the exhaustion finally taking over.

\--

Ryan doesn’t mope, per se. He does spend the whole Sunday doing exactly what he did on Saturday, though, which means he mostly lounges around Jen’s apartment while Jen throws popcorn at his head in an attempt to cheer him up.

Jen hadn’t asked him what had happened, but he’d told her anyway, because he needed to get it off his chest. She’d nodded at all the right moments and given him a hug at the end and carefully told him that it seemed like maybe Shane was more into him than Ryan thought, but when Ryan told her she was wrong, she hadn’t argued with him.

Because she _is_ wrong. There’s no way Shane’s into him, evident in the way he hasn’t tried to call or contact Ryan in any way once since yesterday. He’s probably glad to be rid of him.

So Ryan watches more horror movies, and eats more popcorn, and sleeps alone, and by the time Tuesday rolls around, it’s time to head back to his own apartment.

He postpones is as long as possible, going to work and doing groceries after, terrified of running into Shane, but he needn’t have worried. Shane isn’t there when he gets home, and Ryan gets into his apartment without ever seeing him. He wonder if that’s how it’s going to be now, them just avoiding each other forever. They were good enough friends to know each other schedules and habits, so it wouldn’t be too hard to never see the other again.

The thought is kind of depressing, so Ryan ignores it, and heads into his bedroom to unpack his bag. He doesn’t even glance at the new hardwood floors. After all, they’ve indirectly been the cause of all of this misery.

He doesn’t see Shane the next day, or the day after that, and slowly Ryan gets lulled in this false sense of security that he might never see him again. It’s sad, and he misses Shane more than anything, but it’s probably for the better.

So he goes to work, comes home, eats dinner alone, and goes to bed alone, and pretends he isn’t moping. It works fine, really.

Until the apartment decides to interfere.

When Ryan comes home from work on Monday, the door of his apartment is locked. He tries the key, wiggles it every which way he can, wiggles the knob, kicks the door, but nothing works. It oddly reminds him of the day he first met Shane. He knows him and Shane joked about it, but he’s seriously starting to consider the building might be haunted. Or at least conspiring against him.

He’s about to give up, go downstairs and see if he can contact the landlord, when Shane appears at the top of the stairs.

Clearly neither expected the other to be there, and for a few excruciating seconds they just stand there, staring at each other.

“Shane,” Ryan eventually breathes out, trying to ignore how _good_ Shane looks. Sure, his hair looks messier than normal, and he’s wearing his glasses, which he usually only does when he lounges around the house, and his eyes are small and puffy, like he hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep, but he’s still undeniably beautiful. Ryan hates himself a little for still being so head over heels in love with him, even after he ruined everything. “Why are you here?” He asks, stupidly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Uh,” Shane says, frowning, “Well, you see, I live here.”

Ryan suppresses the urge to snort, “I’m sorry, I mean, uh.”

“Why are you here?” Shane asks, the ‘and not in your apartment’ unspoken.

Staring at the door, Ryan shrugs. “Door won’t open.”

“Oh,” Shane says, and then, “Want me to try?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll ask the landlord or something, you don’t have to bother,” Ryan says, a little too fast, and Shane visibly deflates.

“Yeah. No. Of course,” he says. He still hasn’t moved from his spot on the top of the stairs, which is Ryan’s only escape route, so now they’re just sort of trapped in this weird limbo where neither of them knows what to do or say.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan eventually says, because he feels like he owes Shane at least that. For fucking up their friendship. “I just..” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he doesn’t. Admitting to Shane now that he’s head over heels in love with him kind of just seems like digging his own grave deeper.

Shane laughs, humorlessly, and shrugs, “No, no I get it, I mean, it’s fine, after all who’d want to be with _me_ , am I right?” It sounds hollow, and sad, and it punches a hole right through Ryan’s heart.

“What? What are you talking about?” Ryan asks, confused.

“You left, Ryan,” Shane says, softly, and the way Ryan’s name rolls off his tongue makes Ryan’s heart clench. “You kissed me and then you left. Message received loud and clear.”

Ryan frowns at him. “You think I left because I didn’t want to date you?”

Shane shrugs again, “What else was I supposed to think. The pure horror on your face when you pulled away was pretty obvious. I mean, if anything, _I_ should be sorry. I pretty much demanded you sleep over and then we slept in the same bed and I made you _breakfast_ for god’s sake, and I made you think you wanted me and then you realized that you _didn’t_ and it’s just,” he runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse than before. “It’s fine,” he adds, even though it is clearly not.

“Shane, you absolute _idiot_ ,” Ryan breathes, taking a step in Shane direction, his stomach fluttering when the true meaning of Shane’s words hits home.

“Yeah, thanks Ryan, don’t need you to rub salt in the wounds,” Shane mumbles, looking determinedly at the floor.

“No, I-“ But Ryan’s at a loss for words, and does the only thing he can think of doing.

He kisses Shane.

This time, Shane visibly melts into the kiss, and Ryan’s insides sing, and his hear is soaring, and then he’s pushed away by strong hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t,” Shane breathes out, sounding strangled. “Don’t do this to me, Ryan. It’s not fair.”

“The first time I met you,” Ryan says, softly, because Shane doesn’t believe that this is real, won’t even _look_ at him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. “The first time I met you I thought you were the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my entire life. And then you opened my door like it was nothing and made that stupid joke about your tools and I was sold. But I thought I’d ruined it by being my own awkward self, but you kept showing up and you helped me settle and you made me laugh and you watched stupid ghost hunting shows with me and I. I fell head over heels in love with you, Shane. You know how hard it was, those days I slept over in your apartment? You were just there all the time and we fit so well together and it was the happiest I’d ever been and then I just snapped and I kissed you, but then…” He pauses, runs his hand through his hair.

“I thought I’d ruined our friendship. And I’m not, I’m not brave like you, so I ran out. And I have to say, this week without you has been the most miserable of my entire life. I’m sorry, for running out on you, I really am, but please believe when I say that I will never ever be sorry for kissing you in the first place.”

Shane finally looks up at him, calculating look in his eyes. “Did you just call your ghost hunting shows stupid?”

The comment pulls a startled laugh out of Ryan, “ _That’s_ what you take away from that whole speech?”

“Among other things,” Shane says, grinning as he pulls Ryan in for a hug. “I’m in love with you, too, in case you were wondering,” he mutters into Ryan’s hair, and Ryan sighs happily.

Behind them, the door to Ryan’s apartment swings open without as much as a creak.

 

**Author's Note:**

> folow me on tumblr [here](http://violetevents.tumblr.com) :)


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